


Thaasophobia

by DonovanS



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonovanS/pseuds/DonovanS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim hates seeing the same thing everyday, Sebastian hates not knowing how to fix it.</p><p>This whole thing was written very randomly for practice, apologies for not doing these two justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome 'Home'

Jim didn't like coming home.  
Hell, that was an understatement, he was resentful towards the very _idea._ Being in one place, seeing the same things, over and over and over.  
Tedium. The bane of his existence.  
Today was no different. After the plane, the planning, the flirting with Sherlock, he'd been giddy the whole ride back until he reached the door to his flat.  
It was this expensive, utterly dull place in, arguably, the best part of London. The type of place most men would be willing to kill their mistresses for but when he slowly turned the knob and entered his 'home,' the disgust only grew.

"Colonel."

That and a nod was the only greeting Sebastian Moran was going to get, not that it mattered, the older man was preoccupied with Jim's old laptop. A set of headphones and a microphone hooked up to his head and drowning out Jim's voice, if not his presence.  
Jim hated that game. Some godawful first-person shooter Sebastian adored wasting his time on, chatting up total strangers and cussing like some obnoxious little chav. The man was in his early 40's for god's sake.

" _Colonel Moran._ " Jim hissed, deciding to balance on the back of their black, leather sofa and press his expensive heels against the colonel's shoulder blades.

" _Fucking Hell_ " Sebastian's character missed his shot and dropped from a clean hit to the face, the game announcing 'HEADSHOT' in an aroused, female gasp. He responded by growling and tossing his headphones onto the coffee table. "Heya Boss..."

"I don't pay you to lose fire fights with infants." 

Jim's mood had soured the moment he'd walked through the door and Sebastian knew it. Knew he'd done well at the pool and all his jobs since, he'd left no reason for Jim to be so pissy. He would be infiltrating the damned British Government for the man soon enough, a game break was hardly a luxury request.

"Sorry boss, but there wasn't much else to do today. You had Green taking care of this last on-" His argument was cut off by Jim grabbing his throat from behind.  
It didn't hurt, didn't cut off his air, but Seb wasn't stupid enough to ignore such a clear warning to shut his damned trap.  
Then, just as quickly, the hand was gone and Jim was skulking to the kitchen, looking far too defeated for someone who seemed to do _nothing_ but win.

"...Something wrong, boss?"

" _Nothing_ " Jim replied, his voice still a sarcastic hiss. 

Passive-aggression looked terrible on him sometimes but Sebastian did nothing to help. He never did. Just watched as Jim slammed the fridge door particularly hard and began to make himself a veggie burger.  
It wasn't that he didn't care about the little madman. Quite the opposite, he was absolutely enamored with him. Cared for him more than anything. More than his rifles, more than his Counter Strike rank, more than his own life.  
He would follow James Moriarty to the gates of Hell and proudly carry him through them bridal-style.  
But loving someone and understanding them could be very different and Jim was impossible for a 'normal' person to understand. He was like a puzzle with no outer edge or a word problem with half the variables missing and the sniper never knew if he was putting things together or pulling them further apart.  
Jim was quite literally mad and the mood swings, the temper tantrums, the ability to step so completely out've himself and become someone else without even needing to rehearse was bizarre and confusing and not even his Oxford education had prepared Sebastian for it.  
It was more like his days hunting Tigers, waiting in mud and filth, waiting for something to show up that would either be a beautiful source of payment or his final sight before biting it. It was an adrenaline rush then but he hadn't been _fucking_ the tigers. He'd never spent his nights in the jungle with a partner who could be sucking you off one minute and sulking in his (locked) office the next. Tigers also never spent their time walking the entire building, 'categorizing' the decor in the hallways and turning every doorknob to see if anyone had left their flat unlocked and easy to sneak in and explore.  
Jim _had_ tried to explain it before. Explain that his brain needed to be stimulated, that all the crime in London couldn't keep him going forever because the world was only so much and eventually he'd be trapped in the tedium again, alone and waiting for the ennui to kill him. That was why Sebastian had liked Sherlock, liked his boss focusing so hard on him, making games for them.  
But still Jim came home grumpy and irritated and Sebastian could do nothing but wait it out.

"...Hey boss?"

"What, Sebastian?"

"You know I love ya, right?"

Jim glared but there was no real venom to it anymore, it was more of a 'I'm not done being mad' face than anything else.

"Oxytocin and vasopressin can only do so much, Seb." His voice was empty again, his elbow resting on the counter and his head in his palm. The 'burger' was sitting barely eaten in front of him.

Moran stared at him hopeless for a second before he had a sudden stroke of genius. "...We should take a holiday."

Jim tilted his head, interested peaked. 

"Excuse me?"

"Before I start playing my part of the Game. We should go somewhere, let your brain stretch a bit. Now that you've got all your local ducks in a row, you must be losin' it, right? There's nothing to do but wait around, you hate that."

Jim raised an eyebrow but the gears were clearly turning in his head. A holiday? A new place? Somewhere other than the flat? He could still open his laptop and get an eye full've Sherlock anytime he wanted and he _did_ have a bit of time before the next few pieces would fall into place and the game would really start. Oh, that _would_ be nice.

"You could even go off on your own without me lingering around you like a guard dog." Sebastian was grinning, even if his protective streak hated that idea. He knew Jim liked being by himself. It was a rarity when he was home because of the safety risk but in some other country, under another name...well...

"I'll book something tomorrow." Jim hummed, finally setting to work finishing his food and picking up his 'sing-song' voice. "You can pick the characters, make them something fun~"


	2. You're a Bit of a Cinephile, Tiger

"It's all set, every detail." Jim twists his hips as he slides across the hardwood floor, socks eliminating any friction as he spins into the kitchen and hooks his arm around Sebastian's abdomen for support. "I've decided on Aruba. Dull place I'm sure, but I've never been. Might as well check it off the list, hm?"

"And what list might that be?" Sebastian asks, trying to continue his attempt at making tea while Jim hangs from him like a drunk to a streetlamp. 

"Bucket list. Like that terrible movie you made me sit through." 

"'Excuse me, sir?" 

"You heard me." Jim replies, finally pulling himself up and stretching his arms over his head with a loud crack. "That movie was terrible."

"No, I mean, why do you have a...you know what. This is one of those things where I know you're not gonna answer so to Hell with it." 

"And our identities, tiger?" Jim's already chosen to ignore the question even existing and Seb resigns himself to being right. 

"Got the passports all set. They're on your desk. Paul Patterson for me, Edmund Brighton for you-"

"Movies."

"What?" 

"You got our names from movies." Jim's face is suddenly inches from Sebastian's, eyes wild, happy to do his best of 'deducing' his sniper's inspiration, if only to distract himself from the boring flat. "Paul Patterson was from that bloody horror movie we watched in your old flat, you had it in a dvd case, next to that American abortion...."

"Hey, I enjoyed Halloween three-" 

"Tales of...! Something...older flick." Jim's snapping his fingers now, trying to catch the name on his tongue.

" _Tales that Witness Madness,_ boss, but yeah." Sebastian's grinning now, seeing Jim figuring things out always impresses him.

"Yes! That one. It was a boy with a not-quite-imaginary tiger, yes?"

"I'm shocked you remember. We haven't watched that in years."

"We aren't all Mr. Holmes, dear. Daddy doesn't just delete things willynilly...and I'm not one to forget large cats eating psychologists."

Jim's beaming, far too proud of himself and Sebastian can do nothing but beam right back until a darker look crosses his face.

"And your name?"

It's a challenge. Jim's name'll be harder to figure out, he'd never paid attention to the film when Seb put it on, he'd been busy with his nose against his laptop, reading Sherlock's latest updates. 

"....It's a horror film. It's always horror films with you."

"I like action movies too, Jim."

"Hush. It's horror. You'd pick something that reminded you of me. You're sentimental like that."

Sebastian would love to argue that point but knows too well that Mr. Moriarty considers any special treatment 'sentiment' and merely shrugs in response.

"It would be something older, and clever. At least by that genres' standards. Something famous-"

"Or by someone considered famous, in darker circles." Seb sips his finally finished tea while Jim glares at him. He knows the rules, no clues unless they're demanded.

"....Deodato?"

"Close but no."

"Fulci." Sebastian smirks and Jim starts going through a filmography in his head.

_Massacre Time, Don't Torture a Duckling, Zombi, The Beyond, A Cat in the Brain, A Lizard in_ -

"Edmund Brighton. _A Lizard in Woman's Skin._ "

"Took ya longer than I thought boss." That's earns him a glare and an elbow to the ribs but Moran just keeps smiling and Jim finally smiles back.

"In spite of your....sass, I have to admit, not bad Sebastian." The criminal's tapping his fingers to his lips now, going over the movie in his head, the bits he caught between paragraphs anyway. The story of a schizophrenic woman who dreams of orgies and murder only to awaken not knowing if they're dreams or not. Is her husband drugging her? Setting her up? She finds herself under suspicion of murder with no real way of knowing if she's guilty. She can no longer tell up from down, reality from dreams and Jim supposes Sebastian picks it because _he_ has that effect on people. Twisting them, warping their view points, making them think all the wrong things in all the right ways. "I like it."

Perhaps that kind've sentiment is acceptable. 

"I figured I'd be the disgraced son of a politician" Sebastian chimes in, stepping around Jim and leaning back against the fridge. "And you'd be a wealthy lawyer, taking a break from all the obnoxious clients and boring court proceedings. Close enough to the truth that nobody would actually guess..."

There's a moment of silence as Jim goes over the possibilities in his head. They could be chattering on about business in plan sight with no one the wiser. Though he conveniently leaves out that Sebastian already is the disgraced son of a politician and instead starts thinking about how to dress him up to look less...'Moran-like.' To better fit the role.

He needed to be less blonde at least, maybe black or dark red. 

It occurs to him, however briefly, that Seb might've picked that role on purpose, to give Jim something to do while they waited for their departure date.  
Such a clever, considerate tiger~

This _was_ shaping to be quite the little distraction.


End file.
